Before the beginning, there was nothing. Emptiness on all sides. A meaningless vacancy. In the beginning, God created darkness to keep her company. A darkness that stretched from east to west, north to south, a vast expanse. So God created the sound of silence to fill the void. A warm blanket of blackness that could have lasted for all of eternity, across barriers of space and time. God let the darkness keep her company.
And eventually, God had enough of the ever present darkness. She began to feel a sense of loneliness, the darkness sitting heavy on her chest, weighing her down.
So God created the dawn, painting peaks of blues and purples to the warmth of the black. God loved it so much, she craved more. God added pinks and oranges and eventually created the blue light and placed it up in the sky. She yearned to protect it, pushed it away from the darkness, as far as possible, reaching out her arms, letting the luminescence emit from the in between, out and over. In mercy, God gave light to the earth.
And then, God became weary and began to miss her friend, the dark. She crouched down and sought out the blue of the sky, letting it deepen, growing richer, redder. Turning it over, exchanging the wonder of day to the renewal of night. בָּרוךְ אַתָּה , יְיָ, יוֹצֵר הַמְּאוֹרוֹת